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The Godfather – All About The Bread, Melrose Ave, Los Angeles, CA

As I spent some time last week maligning Subway for their woefully inadequate bread, I thought it would be as good a time as any to talk about one of the better offerings out there. In the Subway post I mentioned that I can forgive people for crowing about great bread, and All About the Bread is certainly crowing. It’s in the name, of course, and they make sure to inform you that the bread is baked fresh every 30 minutes. I’m not exactly sure what that means. Am I getting the bread that’s fresh out of the oven? Do you take a batch, sell what you can in a half hour, then throw the remainder away and start fresh? While the specifics are hazy the implication is clear: This is fresh bread. As for the rest of what’s on display here, The Godfather is a pretty standard Italian sub. The ingredients vary a little depending on where you are, and All About the Bread features spicy capocollo, mortadella, prosciutto, ham, salami and provolone on the namesake bread. I thought it was OK, but enough of my associates proclaimed it too heavy on the mustard and hot peppers that I feel obligated to pass that information on to you. Considered apart from the sandwich, though, the bread was spectacular. The crust is marvelously crisp, having bubbled up into a crackly shell just waiting for your bite to smash through. The interior of the bread is soft and light, not tasteless but willingly playing a supporting roll to the sandwich. Although I would likely steer clear of The Godfather again, they offer a number of other sandwiches your humble enthusiast is anxious to pair up with that outstanding bread.

My issue with All About The Bread is the bread is frankly too crusty and chewy. I know that’s a silly complaint, but when you have to really work to get into the a sandwich, it takes away from the melding of bread and what its holding together. This is especially true with their Godfather. Their mozzarella and tomato sandwich is better, but only because if you let it sit long enough, the ingredients soften the bread.

I know it’s billed as an East Coast sandwich shop, but for the life of me I cannot think of place during my years in Pittsburgh and NYC that served a sandwich so crusty. (Or in South Florida, which is technically the East Coast, but I cannot think of a single good sandwich I ever had down there outside of Cubans.)

I don’t think it’s such a silly complaint. To each their own, of course, and it may vary from batch to batch — I don’t recall the sandwich being a chore at all. That said, I also have a soft spot for the grinder. A submarine sandwich takes its name from aesthetics but a grinder is about body, about effort.

Your point about the East Coast is well founded, and if I had to guess I would say that it’s not about the bread so much as the ability to get an honest deli sandwich, something that, while not impossible to get out here, is a bit uncommon.